This year’s Model

Show captures photographer’s unsettling but influential works

September 12, 2009|Mark Feeney, Globe Staff

SOUTH HADLEY - What made Lisette Model’s reputation was a series of photographs she took on the French Riviera in the 1930s. They offered an unsparing view of well-fed self-indulgence - the good life as grotesquerie - along the Promenade des Anglais. A New York newspaper published them in 1941 under the headline “Why France Fell.’’

There is no small irony in Model’s becoming famous in such a fashion. So much of the force of her photographs, and it is considerable, stems from a refusal to moralize or judge. She patrolled the porous boundary between the (almost) forbidden and (uneasily) allowed. Patrolling is not policing, however. Model may have been one of the camera’s great recording angels. Yet she knew, as angels must, that God is the one who saves - and damns.

The only complaint to make about “Lisette Model and Her Successors,’’ which runs through Dec. 13 at the Mount Holyoke College Art Museum, is that Model’s own images make up barely a fifth of the 121 photographs in it. Model was a legendary teacher, and along with her own work the show includes pictures from 11 of her pupils, as well as from Leon Levenstein, who studied with Model’s painter husband. It’s an impressive bunch - among them are Larry Fink, who co-curated the show, Bruce Weber, and Diane Arbus - but it’s the teacher who commands attention in this classroom.

Model was born in Vienna in 1901. After moving to Paris in 1924, she took up photography. She emigrated to New York in 1938. Her timing was doubly impeccable. Leaving Paris when she did, she missed the Nazis. Living there when she did, she was present for a signal moment in photographic history. Andre Kertesz, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Brassai were all active there - and the influence of each is evident in Model’s early work. “Man Sleeping Near the Seine,’’ from 1937, could be one of Brassai’s studies of the secret life of Paris, only transferred in this case to broad daylight. And its elegant play of curves has the compositional grace of a Kertesz.

“Composition’’ was a word Model forbade in her classes. “You are the subject,’’ she liked to tell her students, “life is the object.’’ That didn’t leave much room for such fripperies as form and design! She could afford to be so cavalier. Something like “Fifth Avenue,’’ from the late 1940s, shows what a phenomenal eye Model had. It’s a wondrously dynamic sidewalk-level view, seemingly caught on the fly. Amid multiple picture planes, horizontals and verticals snap together, just so. So do a different pair of visual elements: the mundane (pavement, flag, automobile) and stylish (a woman’s high-heeled pump, the slimness of her calf).

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